The peasants, indeed, secure
of their prey, evinced no hurry to commence the attack, but spent
the night in shouting and singing round their fires, occasionally
yelling threats of the fate which awaited them against the defenders
of the tower.
Towards daylight Malcolm commenced his preparations for defence.
The door was taken off its hinges and was laid on the stone stairs.
These were but two feet wide, the door itself being some three
inches less. The rope was fastened round its upper end to prevent
it from sliding down.
"I wish we had some grease to pour over it," Malcolm said, "but dry
as it is it will be next to impossible for anyone to walk up that
sharp incline, and we four should be able to hold it against the
peasants till doomsday."
It was not until broad daylight that the peasants prepared for
the attack. So long as the operation had been a distant one it had
seemed easy enough, but as in a confused mass they approached the
open doorway they realized that to ascend the narrow staircase,
defended at the top by desperate men, was an enterprise of no common
danger, and that the work which they had regarded as finished was
in fact scarcely begun.
The greater part then hung back, but a band of men, who by their
blackened garments and swarthy faces Malcolm judged to be charcoal
burners, armed with heavy axes, advanced to the front, and with an
air of dogged resolution approached the door.
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